We are Legion
by smeehan98
Summary: Remus, a decorated warrior of the Legion, faces exile and death after a harrowing battle that went horribly wrong. Betrayed and abandoned by his former master and cause, he leads a small band of ex-legionnaires in a brutal gureilla war against those that wronged them.
1. Intro

War. War never changes.

Spreading ever further west across the great expanse of Arizona, and onward towards the shining concrete monument that was Hoover Dam, Caesar's Legion was no stranger to war. Already bearing the trophy's of 62 conquests, the Legion was reviled across the wastes. Countless refugees poured west at their coming, some as far as the Nevada Desert, and some further still, deep into the heart of NCR territory. Those too proud or brave or stupid enough to raise arms against the Legion were crushed, their homes cast down, their identities swept away under the banner of the bull.

And so it was the with the tribe of Remus. No shred of his tribes former glory remains, all knowledge burned alongside the rest of his former life. Its name lost in ashes.

This Remus's story. The year is 2264, 7 years after the fall of his tribe, though to look at him would be to see all the Legion admires. Strong, courageous, battle-proven and most importantly loyal, to both Caesar and his fellow legionnaires. The Legion prepares for the final assault on his latest conquest. As the unstoppable war-machine closes in, one overriding message is announced to the waiting troops.

"We are Legion! Dare not allow fear to break our lines. In Caesar's name, go and bring about glorious victory!"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.1

Location: Western Arizona

The man's arm came away just above the elbow. He stared blankly at the bleeding stump for a second before the blade returned, severing his head from his body. Remus swung around as a small javelin lodged in the paudron of his armor. He swiftly dispatched the owner with his own _Pila_, and tore the ruined shoulder guard off as he rushed back into the fray. The javelin hadn't quite pierced his armor. Lucky. That was his 2nd hit so far.

Two more kills later and Remus caught sight of his commanding officer, Varius, tearing into one of the tribal warbands. Had they the discipline and skill of trained Legionnaires, they may have stood a chance, though to be honest Remus doubted it. Varius's combat skill was known even to the elite Praetorians, and it was rumoured that should the Malpais Legate ever fall, Varius would be his successor. Remus tried to not involve himself in the internal politics of The Legion, but he acknowledged that Varius was probably the best suited to the job.

A makeshift sword, little more than a kitchen knife on a stick, swung around at his face, but too slowly. Remus ducked the swipe and rolled, the serrated blade jabbing the dirt he had just moments ago been standing on. His opponent was unbalanced, and in the second it took him to recover, Remus had crossed to two meters separating them and ended the animals life. The head rolled a short distance before coming to a halt with glazed unseeing eyes a few meters away.

_Fuuarrrrghhhh._

Despite his instincts screaming at him to run, Remus smiled. Markus always had a habit of turning up just when he was needed. This time, it was as a more intelligent profligate attempting to flank the exhausted legionnaire, and the help was certainly appreciated. While as Decanus Remus held no second in command, Markus's opinions on any combat situation had often caused Remus to revise or even revoke his own orders.

The two warriors fought together, back to back. Each knew exactly where the other was and both anticipated eachovers actions with unnerving accuracy, It wasn't long before they found themselves advancing towards the the ridge that hid the Profligates village again to re-engage the fleeing tribals.

Another tribal was rushing towards him, a bloody war-hammer in his hands that Remus felt sure would have no problem smashing through his light armor. The enraged tribal swung, again too early. Remus ducked under the red mallet and swiftly slashed at the mans exposed leg. With a sharp cry the profligate fell to the dust, and Markus finished him off by way of a short stab through the neck. And then Markus was gone, leaping to a nearby boulder to escape a so far unseen enemy. Leaping around to face the unknown threat, he felt something hit him square on the chest.

The colour drained from his sight, the red stained floor slowly melting into a poor grey colour. The noises of desperate combat that had dogged him for the last hour fell away to the dull thump of his own heartbeat. And now the colour changed darker still. He was dimly aware of others falling around him, though whether they were tribals or Legionaries he was not aware. He felt something dragging him away, and looking up drunkenly to see what had happened, was welcomed by the site of a boot bearing down towards his face

The world went black.

* * *

Chapter 1.2

Location: Flagstaff

Alexius groaned as he examined the latest reports from his Frumentarii. The Legion was used to steam-rolling over smaller settlements, so a disastrous defeat from what all intelligence had considered only a minor threat to Legion order was a sure-fire loss in morale. More importantly, someone would be taking the blame

"Two entire Cohorts wiped out! Not one survivor!" he spat at his slave, who had previously been sorting through less important news "900 men, including eight centurions, dead over some damn backwater in the middle of the desert! What a bloody waste of resources."

"Two Cohorts? That's more dead than when we assimilated the Red Waters!" exclaimed the slave. She couldn't help but keep a twinge of excitement out of her voice. Any force capable of defeating that many legionaries was to be reckoned with. Luckily for her, Alexius didn't seem to picked it up over his rant.

"Caesar will have our heads for this!"

* * *

**Okay so that's the end of chapter 1. Honestly this is the first go I've had at this kind of thing so I hope you enjoyed it, but I'm sure I screwed at least a bit of it up. That's what the reviews are for people. Positive hopefully, but even the bad ones just mean I've got something to improve on.**

**Not much has really happened so far in terms of plot line so far. I've got ideas laid out, but any of your own ideas would be much appreciated. Assuming that there's enough demand for it, I'll keep going.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Any suggestions are of course much appreciated and I would like to add a personal thank you to hamoud, who was nice enough to click follow after reading one really short chapter (you're awesome! )**

**And I didn't forget about you either guest reviewer. Thanks for the advice, hope the pacing seems better now.**

**Oh yeah, if you don't like swearing look away now…**

Chapter 2.1-Sweet Dreams

Location: Unknown

"Son of a bitch? Hey wake up!"

"Get him up. We need him right now!"

"Shit he's still bleeding. What the fuck did they do to him?"

"Damn it Markus! D'you want to kill him god dammit?"

…Markus…

Memories gently flowed inside his mind. Not the sharp, cutting torrents that come usually came from trauma; these seemed numbed… foggy. He found himself mildly intrigued by this, but if he was honest with himself he didn't really care.

"It's nice enough here, wherever here is."

…

_A man in crimson sports armor was looking on over a few dozen children. All were engaging one another in hand to hand combat. He merely observed, his face showing no emotion as a particularly tenacious child stood over his now defeated opponents, grinning at the pain and shamed faces._

_The man walked over to the child, who turned towards him with a hopeful look in his eyes. That vanished as a metal plated fist smashed into his gut. The child doubled over only to face the knee that caught him dead on the nose. Blood sprayed from his face and splattered the surrounding children. Despite this the child remained standing. There were no tears in his eyes._

_The man walked away from the scene, ordering his fellow to clean up the blood as he passed._

…

It was oddly pleasant, he mused. He felt almost… content, if such a word was possible for a man in his position. He found that while he attempted to get a grip of the situation he was in, these were only met with failure as his emotions and fears slipped through metaphorical fingers and into the void of oblivion.

…

_An old man in a ragged outfit knelt bound to a nearby stone. A machete lay besides him. He advanced slowly towards the blade looking back to see the eyes of his fellows follow his movements expectantly. He lifted the blade and marched towards the prisoner. Looking into his eyes he saw a host of emotions: defiance, resignation, regret … fear._

_He examined the blade in his hand. Was he really going to do this? He turned to his fellows, but they seemed to either not see or care about his mixed emotions. Whichever it was, it gave no answer to his question._

_Sighing in resignation, he lifted the blade… and swung it down with all his force._

…

Something was wrong. He could hear noises bouncing through his mind, deafening after the silence he had grown so used too. With the voices came thoughts.

_Noises…words…people…friends…legion…dead…_

"Oh shit"

The man suddenly remembered everything. The battle. The tribals. His comrades.

"Oh shit, shit SHIT!"

Chapter 2.2

Location: Unknown

"Guys get over here! He's waking up!"

A young voice, nearly mistakable for that of a boy, yet still clearly to unenthusiastic to belong to someone inexperienced.

"Someone get Anthony over her."

"I'm here, don't worry. Now let's get a look at him."

Anthony was tossed against the nearby wall as Remus leapt to his feet. The legionnaire barrelled his way through the group that had surrounded him. Shouting in surprise, they fell back, several literally falling over themselves as he shoved past them. Remus cannoned into a particularly large attacker, but he was deflected as the man backhanded him into the nearby steel wall. Not missing a beat, Remus dropped to the floor in a slide before launching himself up again, causing some serious damage to the giants manhood in the process. The giant screamed in absolute agony and curled into a foetal position on the ground.

With those immediately surrounding him incapacitated or on the floor, Remus took a look at his surroundings. He was in a fairly small room or cell, roughly 10mx8m in size. There were no windows, and the only obvious exit appeared to be the nearby door. He groaned inwardly at the sight of it. Clearly, they were in some sort of pre-war military bunker. No other place he had seen had ever employed such heavy security in such things. Surrounding him were about 15 men, keeping a wary distance from him.

Then he noticed the crimson uniforms they were all wearing.

"God damn idiots. I could've killed one of you!"

Chapter 2.3

Location: Flagstaff-Caesars Palace

Alexius bowed deeply before his leader. As head of the Legions Frumentarii network that was constantly vigil for threats and opportunities from the east, this was not the first bad news he had ever had to bring before Caesar. A slight spasm in his left hand was all that was needed to remind him of the punishment for those who failed Caesar (Praetorians were not to be messed with, it turned out), and he never wanted to relive the experience. He nearly chastised himself for not running as soon as he heard of the failed attack, but thought better of it. Going to Caesar may be nearly a death penalty but it would be a lot less painful than crucifixion with the common slaves as a deserter.

Besides, if his plan worked, it wouldn't come to that anyway.

"My lord, I must regrettably inform you that our attack on the Redskin tribals has been met with disastrous failure."

He proceeded to inform Caesar, albeit in little detail, of the events as outlined in the reports. As the report drew on Caesars face changed from bored, to intrigued, to shocked and angry.

"Alexius, you have served well for many years, but I begin to wonder. Was this failed attack caused by the legionnaires themselves or your own ineptitude? Those men were more than a match for the few tribals that we sent them to deal with, which leaves the fault squarely on you."

Now or never. If he pulled this off he would avoid the death penalty and earn the favour of Caesar once again…

"My lord with respect, we have reason to believe that the legionnaires were betrayed from within. Varrius was believed to be the ringleader behind the mutiny and all those truly loyal to the legion are thought to have been slaughtered by the rebels."

Caesars accusing glare faded somewhat, and he spent a few moments contemplating his next decision.

Finally he said "Last chance Alexius, find and kill these rebels, however you see fit."

It wasn't until he was back outside when Alexius dared breathe again.

**Finally got around to having another go at it. New style for me so really sorry if it's a bit crap (especially since I did this at 1 in the morning… need sleep). Oh yeah and in case you hadn't realised it we've sort of got a main bad guy now yay! Sorry I take so long to update but honestly I'm probably not gonna keep any promise I make on deadlines so this will probably just get updated whenever I feel like doing it. Sorry**

**As at the beginning please review and give any suggestions. It all helps to make me a better storywriter (even if your harsh words kill me inside!)**


	4. Chapter 3

**OH MY GOD ITS BEEN MONTHS… This next chapter contains swearing.**

**Initialising P.I.P-OS… **

**Complete**

**Logging in: Pv1c Jennings**

**? Open Notes App? (Y/N) **

"**Y"**

_**Personal Note: **__To the record of my great awsomness. It is oficial. I am the singal gr8est scavenger in the ENTIRE MOTHER FUCKING WASTELAND. No why. Yor reading off it. No way am I handing this in at inspection. I could sell this shit for a MILLION CAPS or some shit. Gonna hav to hide it sumplace though. Somewhere that wont be used. Ahh… prisoner section duhh. Well il be dropping this off and will be back for it in a few days…_

_**Day 1: **__I'm not really sure how long I've been here actually, but seeing as I was asleep for most of it and the others say nothing interesting has happened since we got here we'll start at 1. _

___I've been awake for a grand total of 2 hours and already I'm bored shitless. Forgive the profanity, but when one's mind is left to wander at the will of profligates tempers… Feel sorry for Maro. Poor bastard got in the way earlier when I woke up._

_ Screaming didn't stop for about an hour and now he's just looking at me as if he's caught me alone with his favourite slave._

_ Anyway I divert from my intended point. As you may have guessed, we are stuck. We're all locked in a small room with nothing but a steel door (locked of course) between us and freedom. Well that and the armed guards patrolling around. I'm not sure who these guys are but they definitely aren't tribals, or at least not the kind we're used to. _

_For a start they've all got the same "uniform". Olive drab… similar to pre-war colours…certainly not Redskins. Plus every single one of them is carrying a rifle and at least a few have military grade explosives. I know this cause I've seen several wander past the cell door, which just happens to have a convenient keyhole. Thank Mars the instructors taught us Triarii basic lock picking skills. Now I just need a pick._

_By the way, in response to the likely question "How am I recording an audio of myself", there was a pip-boy(and this is brilliant this) just LYING THERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM. I've since taken possession as my fellow legionnaires (except maybe Markus) haven't got a clue how to wear the damn thing. _

_Don't know who this Jennings is, but thanks for leaving the invaluable wrist computer here assholr. What sort of private "finds" gear like this anyway? …Wonder if CONNELRAD is any good?_

_EDIT: Guess we're gonna have to get used to radio silence…_

_**Day 2: **__Boys are starting to get antsy. Can't say I blame them. It's only been a day but already the waiting's getting to me. Our captors have so far neglected to appear aside from once. A whole squad (at least it seemed so) pushed us back to the end of the room while a couple threw in some food. Do they honestly fear us that much… We were all too surprised to attempt an escape at the time. Next time maybe…_

_ As it stands there are currently 14 of us not including myself. Romulus…used a bone from the meal to slit his throat. Guess he didn't want our captors the satisfaction, but still… dammit. Others have orders not to copy him, but whether that lasts isn't certain. _

_What worries me is I'm in charge. Not that we're gonna stick with formality, but seriously, Markus or even Anthony should be in charge. I'm certainly not cut out for leadership roles. _

_Varrius is missing as well, though whether dead or captured I'm not sure. Not really sure which would be best._

_**Day 4:**__ Haven't had a reason to update till today. Morale is currently underground, and escape seems less and less likely. I slipped the bone through the bars of the door. _

_ This update is to record that at this point in time, only 10 of my men remain. Anton, Maro, Marimus and Serverus were killed or taken during the night. Several armed troopers came into the cell and dragged out the men closest to the door. Marimus was sluggish, and I guess lack of cooperation translated as resistance to these guys. Shot woke everyone up. Roughly 10 minutes later, 3 distinct gunshots were heard. I doubt we'll be seing any of those 3 again._

_ I hope they died well._

_**Day 8: **__I must assume the Legion has abandoned us. At most, a rescue attempt should have been attempted by now by either frumentarii or by an entire cohort. I refuse to believe that Caesar would stand by and allow a group of our original forces size to remain in enemy hands without retaliation._

_So why has no one come. _

_**Day 24:**__ This is it I guess. One way or another, we won't be captives much longer. Over the past couple of weeks we've been gathering what we can. As it stands there are 9 of us left. Meridius and Kato were taken a few days ago._

_Assuming we can get through the guards at the door, we may have a chance. They'll give us access to a couple of rifles plus disguises for a couple of men. From there we get some directions and hopefully free any of our brothers before fleeing or taking the base, whichever is easiest._

_Honestly, I doubt this plan will end with a victory. We are just a handful of men, armed with chicken bones and torn metal, but everyone here is resigned to death. No one expects to make it through the day, but frankly everyone here is just happy to punch back, not play any more helpless prisoner. We are legion, and we'd rather die fighting than rot in a cage._

_Strange. Normally that line would motivate me._


End file.
